


Stepping Over the Line

by ladyspock7



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Coming of Age, Death of an Uncle, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Misunderstandings, Racism, Uncles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:38:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyspock7/pseuds/ladyspock7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve year old Megamind is growing up. This is a problem for some prejudiced individuals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place about two years before the events of another of my stories about teen Megamind, "Stepping Out."

 

**Prologue: September**

“Do you want to go to the funeral?” the warden asked quietly.

Blue was holding Minion on his lap. He was idly tracing patterns on Minion's bowl, but at Parker's words a flash of near-panic passed over his face. Minion's eyes shifted quickly from Blue to the warden and back again.

“It would only be for a few hours,” said Parker. He waited for this to sink in. _I don't care if the committee doesn't like it,_ Parker thought. _He should be able to go._

Blue began stroking the bowl again, as if Minion were a cat. Parker saw that the boy's sleeves were too short; his bony wrists were exposed. The warden glanced down. The cuffs of the boy's pant legs were almost up to his calves. Geez. The kid must've grown four inches over the summer. How could he not have noticed? And why didn't the boy tell him that he needed a new uniform? He always had in the past.

Minion's spindly little robotic suit stood by the head of the bed. It was a little bigger than the last one. When Minion was installed in it, the top of his dome brought him up to Blue's shoulder height.

“No thank you,” the boy said formally.

“Minion can come too. I can get you a suit,” said Parker. It would be a hassle finding something that would fit Blue on such short notice, but he thought that maybe one of Dan's or Sammy's old suits would work, if he could figure out where they were stored.

Blue shook his head again and smiled mirthlessly. “I fear that my presence will distract from the main event,” he said. His smile faded and he looked down at Minion's bowl again.

It was an excuse, but sadly, he was probably right. It wouldn't surprise the guards that would come to pay their respects, but Blue's presence was sure to excite some comment among the other mourners. Al Kopecki had been a gregarious and outgoing individual. There was bound to be a crowd at the church. The boy hadn't set foot outside the prison grounds in six years. Parker sometimes feared that he was hopelessly institutionalized.

They sat silently for a little longer.

“It's on Thursday, 10:30. Think about it. Let me know if you change your mind.” Parker paused. “You know that you can call me at home at any time, right?”

Blue didn't say anything. Parker put his hand on his shoulder. Immediately the boy stood up and turned away, holding Minion to his chest.

“Will that be all, _warden_?” he said stiffly.

Parker stared at his ward's rigid back and over-sized head. He wished he could get Blue to call him 'Dad' again, but it wasn't the sort of thing you could order someone to do.

“Yes, that's about it,” he said. He left the cell.

 

**Three Months Later**

 

The warden's eldest son Daniel came weaving his way home to the Parker household at 3:30 AM, and very carefully parked his car more or less in the driveway. It was off the street and only partially covered the sidewalk. Good enough. The Christmas lights that hung on the outside of the house were still on, which might have clued him in that someone was still awake, if he hadn't been higher than a kite.

He got the back door open on the fifth try and entered the kitchen. He wove his way past the chairs, and knocked one over with a crash. He grimaced in the dark, making elaborate shushing motions with his hands, though there was no one to see it. He picked the chair up and continued on his stumbling way through the house.

Slowly he realized there was a light on in the living room. He followed it as if entranced. Somehow he was not surprised to see his father sitting in one of the easy chairs.

A paper sack sat on the coffee table. Dan's personal property. He felt a slight sense of outrage that his father had so obviously searched his room, but it was buried under the numbing buzz of narcotics, and the even more numbing, paralyzing buzz of guilt.

John Parker stood and picked up the sack. “I don't want to hear it,” he said, though Dan hadn't been able to think of anything to say, actually.

The bag was held out to him.

“Just pack your things and get out,” his father said. “I don't want to hear from you again. You are no longer a part of this family.”

Dan stared at his father's face for a few seconds, then snatched the sack out of his hand as if worried that it was going to be taken away from him after all.

He went to his room. A few minutes ago the only thing on his mind was finding his bed and sleeping for a week, but the brief encounter with Dad was having the same effect as a bucket of ice water over the head, and now his only desire was to get out of the house. He threw a bunch of clothes in a duffel bag, got his _other_ stash, and left via the front door, so he wouldn't have to pass by the living room again and see his father standing there.

\-------

Parker was glad the next day was a visiting day. The prisoners were usually better behaved, at least the ones that were expecting visitors. He could make it through, he could handle it, the paperwork, the meetings, the little quarrels and complaints, he could make it. Just let it be a quiet day. He felt like he was made of glass. Any sudden movements would cause him to shatter.

He stopped by the security chief's office and briefly informed Walter Schmidt of the events of the past night. Schmidt stared at him somberly and advised him to take the day off.

“Taken too many sick days as it is, Walt,” said Parker, getting to his feet. “Just giving you a heads up.”

He passed by the boy's cell but it was empty. Blue and Minion were out already, probably holed up in the workshop or the library. They didn't get visitors.

He always made it a point to at least say hello, to exchange a pleasantry or two, though in the boy's case it was more and more of an unpleasantry.

Since the guard he called Uncle Al---the only guard who ever received that honorific--- had died, the boy's sarcasm had only gotten worse.

He found them in the library. Minion was flipping a deck of cards into a wastebasket, one by one. Blue was lying on the floor, feet up on the old couch, idly kicking a cushion onto the floor and reading a magazine. A pillow was folded up under him, the bulk of it wedged under his thin neck. Derrick, the old and surly librarian, was giving them an evil look for messing up his precious library.

The kid craned his head around at the sound of Parker's footsteps. Blue's eyes flickered briefly up and down as if he were looking for something, then he turned his attention back to the magazine. Parker nodded at Minion, who gave him a brief, guarded smile in return.

“You're going to help put things away later, right, Blue?” he asked.

“Megamind,” the boy said.

Parker was not in the mood to get drawn into another infuriating discussion on names. It just lead to snide remarks. Parker wondered if he were doing anyone any favors by letting it slide. He hoped it was some phase that the boy would grow out of. It was probably because he was around thugs all day who had nicknames like “Stiletto” and “Bruiser.”

“Would it kill you to be civil for once?” Parker asked wearily.

“Yes.” The boy held the magazine close. All Parker could see was the top of his bald head and his hands.

“Just try not to get on Derrick's bad side, will you?”

Blue grunted. “Does he have any other side?” he muttered.

There must be some universal teenage genetics at work, that cut through all laws of time and space, Parker reflected as he went to the office. Dan had been like this, and never grown out of it, Melanie was just starting to come out from under its influence, though admittedly she was much more likely to be quiet and withdrawn rather than sarcastic, and Sammy, his youngest, was in the thick of it. Blue was only twelve, but it looked as if he would out-do all of them in teenage surliness.

And so the day wore on, time unspooling from its reel. He got his work done, wrote a recommendation for a new parolee, and continually steered his mind away from thoughts of Dan, and all the “could've and should've” thoughts. It was too late. Five grueling sessions of rehab over the years, and Dan hadn't changed, at all, and to find out that he was a full-blown drug-dealer, well, that was the last straw.

This weekend would be an ordeal. He made the long trip to visit Joyce at the facility every Saturday. This time he was going to have to explain what had happened with their eldest son. He wasn't sure if it would help if Melanie and Sammy were along. Maybe this time they could stay home. Joyce was bound to take the news badly. He felt tired just thinking about it.

\-------

The shadows had already claimed most of the courtyard. Visiting day was over and people were leaving. Megamind and Minion walked out into the yard. It was unusually balmy for December and Megamind didn't bother with a jacket, but the wind was starting to feel sharp. The sun was going down fast. He turned his collar up.

There were some other prisoners standing around and talking in little groups of two and three, enjoying a few minutes of free time before the supper hour. Two men in prison orange were locked in an intimate embrace by a far wall, only partly hidden by shadow. Privacy was hard to come by around here. The other men ignored them in the time-honored tradition of Looking the Other Way, and Not Noticing Anything Going On At All.

“Who's that?” Minion wondered.

“Just Uncle Lenny and Uncle Sid,” Megamind said dismissively.

They walked over to the gate and peered idly out into the parking lot. A harassed looking middle aged woman was ushering three slouching teenagers to a rusted out station wagon, two boys and a girl.

“Ford,” Minion said.

“It's a Dodge, obviously,” said Megamind. “Look at the headlights.”

Minion picked some old cobwebs off the bars.

“I'm...sure the warden's just busy, Sir. I'm sure he didn't mean to forget,” said Minion.

“Yes, no doubt he's got problems with his _real_ kids. I don't want to talk about it, Minion. I do not _care,_ ” said Megamind. “I'm too old for presents, anyway.” He held his hand up to the sun's rays. The dying light was a deep yellow, burnishing everything it touched with a gold hue.

He wondered, just a little, what was up with the old man. Like this morning, the warden hardly seemed to notice that Megamind was snubbing him. Of course, if the gossip he'd heard was anything to go by, it sounded like the eldest of Parker's brood would be occupying one of the cells at this very prison any day now.

His lip curled at the thought. He could become reacquainted with Dan Parker. What a joy that would be.

Joyce, the warden's wife, had once made semi-regular visits, but that was years ago. He'd liked her well enough, but she had a fragile, scattered quality about her that sometimes made him nervous, and the fact that she frequently dragged her kids along with her, in the hope that they would all become good chums, often made her visits more of an ordeal to be endured rather than a treat.

The Parker children were all older than him, Dan by a good ten years. Dan tended to pinch him when their mother wasn't looking, to make him yelp. Melanie was easiest to get along with, since she was always reading, just like him. She didn't talk much, but once she got over her surprise that he could read the same sorts of things she did, she sometimes could even be persuaded into actually talking. She shared her comics, too, though Dan always made a point of informing her that comics were for boys and that she was, therefore, a total geek. Sammy, the other boy, resented Blue's very existence, and ignored him as much as possible. Minion said Sammy was just jealous because Sir was younger, which sounded rather stupid, since Sammy got to go home to a real house with actual parents. And _Sammy_ was jealous? He had to take Minion's word for it.

At least getting ignored and picked on was good preparation for shool.

Whenever their elder brother was around, they became quiet and withdrawn. One day he realized that they, too, were afraid of Dan, and he felt a kind of solidarity with them.

Then Joyce stopped coming. The relief he felt at not having to put up with Dan anymore was short-lived. He missed Joyce and Melanie. He even missed Sammy. One day his Daddy the warden sat him down and explained that Joyce was...ill, and had to go to a special hospital. It all sounded very suspicious. He asked Uncle Al about it later. The old guard was usually much more straightforward about things, but on this subject he had been surprisingly close-mouthed, and, infuriatingly, told him that he'd understand when he was older. Megamind heard a few of the guards talking, and one of them said that Joyce Parker had been “locked up in the nuthouse,” which made him think she'd gotten sent to some sort of prison.

Shortly afterwards he decided he'd had enough schooling, and that he might as well do his best to be as bad as possible, and left the Little Red Schoolhouse in the most dramatic fashion. But Joyce's disappearance and his expulsion were two completely separate events that didn't have any relation to each other whatsoever. He was sure of it.

Al was right; he _did_ understand, now that he was older, but a lot of time and confusion could have been avoided if they had just told him that his foster mother had an illness in her mind. He and Minion took to finding ways of keeping themselves busy on visiting days.

Megamind's eyes drooped. The insomnia was pretty bad lately. He'd barely slept three hours in the last two nights, but now he was almost asleep on his feet. Maybe he could get forty-two winks tonight, or whatever it was.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around. Frank Wilson stood over him, a six foot slab of red-faced disgruntlement with a bad comb-over.

Frank Wilson. His uncles, and the warden too, had warned him away from Frank. Frank was doing time for taking a swing at the cop who'd come to break up the domestic disturbance. Breaking your wife's jaw wasn't quite enough to get you sentenced, apparently. She hadn't pressed charges. She even came by to visit, and made sure the kids did, too. And now the bastard was hulking over him.

“You lookin' at my daughter?” Frank said in a low voice.

Megamind stared at Frank's bulbous nose and blood-shot eyes in confusion. He understood the words, of course, but there was some bizarre undercurrent to the question that he wasn't quite getting. He looked uncertainly towards the parking lot. The station wagon was pulling out of its space. Was Frank wondering where she was? He thought that was Frank's family that was just leaving, but that didn't seem to be what the angry man was asking.

“What?” he asked, hoping for clarification.

“I _said,_ are you lookin' at my girl?” Frank snarled.

O...kaaay, a mere rephrasing of the same question.

He glanced at Minion, but the little ichthyoid looked as bewildered as he did. Megamind would have gotten the hell out of there, but he was backed up against the wall. Frank was starting to look seriously unhinged.

“I...guess,” Megamind said, swallowing. He glanced out the gate again. “She was---”

Frank backhanded him across the face and his head hit the wall. White spots danced across his vision. He crouched down, gaping at Frank in shock, ears ringing. Frank was _screaming_ at him, and calling him all kinds of filthy names.

“Owww!” Frank yelled, leaping back and grabbing his leg. Minion was kicking furiously, his little metal feet hard as steel-toed boots, until Frank was hopping from foot to foot. Frank swatted at Minion, and Megamind tensed, preparing to throw himself at the man, and then Uncle Sid came crashing in.

Sid was the smaller man, but in terms of total berserk rage, he was about ten feet tall, and soon Frank was fighting to get away from him.

Frank took several more blows before he was able to tear free of Sid's furious grip. He backed away. Sid's boyfriend Lenny, one of the biggest men in the place, had come over to offer moral support and was cracking his knuckles, though clearly Sid didn't need any help. Frank backed up a little further.

“What the fuck’s your problem? Huh?” Sid rasped.

Frank dabbed his wrist on his bloody mouth. He pointed at Megamind. “I'm not havin' _that_ lookin' at my daughter,” he said, not one to deviate from his course.

Sid looked at Megamind, who was still standing by the wall. Megamind gave a helpless shrug. He tried to grin, but stopped at the sharp pain from his lip. He was finally starting to have an inkling of the nature of the situation when the world took another loop further into insanity.

Sid walked over and smacked Megamind across the head.

Megamind stared at the ground, blinking hard. Minion gave a startled squeak and huddled against his master's side, but for once Megamind didn't put his arm around Minion's shoulders. His arms hung loose at his sides.

“Wake up, damn it!” Sid snapped, standing over him. “Pay attention! Don't you know nothin’? If you even _look_ like you're staring, that's enough excuse for some a these bastards! How long you been livin' here?”

Megamind stared at the ground. He was wondering what planet he'd landed on this time.

“Yo, man, chill out,” murmured Lenny, glancing around. The guards were coming.

“You're too easy on him, Len! Next guy could break his neck, you think of that?” Sid said. “A lot worse than a little smack on the face! He's always got his head in the clouds! We're always savin' him. He better grow up. He's gotta learn to watch out for himself.”

Sid's rage pressed on him like a physical force. Minion anxiously shoved himself a little harder against Megamind's chest and Megamind laid his hand on the bowl to soothe him.

Then the guards were all around them, barking out orders and pushing people around. Minion was pulled away from him and made to stand with the other perceived culprits of the fight.

Megamind wondered bleakly if he should be insulted that Frank thought he was the wrong sort, or flattered, that Frank thought he was actually capable of fooling around with a girl.

Not too long ago, if he ran across a person of the female persuasion, his ears would turn dark red, his cheeks would flush, and he would turn into a tongue-tied idiot. It wasn't his fault that everybody's chests were at his eye level. He could control himself better now, he was able to maintain an air of aloofness no matter the occasion, but his awkward reactions had once been a source of endless amusement amongst guards and prisoners alike.

Or used to be. A line had been crossed. He could sense it. He hadn't even known there _was_ a line, but he crossed it nevertheless. Oh, he already sort of knew about the “don't even think about lookin' at my woman” neanderthal crap, but he never had to _worry_ about it before.

And so the whole sorry episode might have come to an end, with everyone sent back to their cells, if security chief Schmidt hadn't been there, too, and demanded to know what was going on.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Let's have some light,” ordered Schmidt. The lights on the walls came on, flooding the courtyard. The sun had just gone down. The brief warmth of the mild day had disappeared. They would have all been inside by now, except for this little incident. The wind was sharper now, and getting colder by the minute.

_Why do these things always happen at the end of a shift?_ he thought. He walked along the line, studying the stony faces of the brawlers. Frank Wilson, Sid Bauerman, and...Minion? He paused and looked down at the sullen ichthyoid. Minion's spindly little robot arms were crossed over his chest. 

Schmidt looked at Blue, fidgeting by the wall. He had a bloody lip and a spooked expression. His arms were crossed over his chest, too.

Sid and Minion appeared to be unscathed. Frank had clearly gotten the worst of it. His comb-over was wrecked, stray hairs fluttering in the breeze, and his face was a mess.

The other prisoners were gathered, though not too closely, to watch the show. Lenny, Sid's closest friend, looked even glummer than usual, his dark face somber, but even he kept his distance.

Schmidt turned to the senior guard, Chavez. “These are all of them?” he said quietly. “What about him?” He tilted his head toward Blue.

Chavez nodded and shrugged. “He wasn't involved, except as collateral damage.” Schmidt snorted his disbelief. Chavez waved a hand and grimaced. “I know, I know, but that's what it looks like. Frank and Blue exchanged words, then Frank decked him.”

Schmidt nodded. Kid was mouthing off again. Typical. Hence the melee.

Chavez said, “Even his Uncle Sid smacked him upside the head.” He shrugged at Schmidt's look of surprise. “Yeah, I don't know. Maybe Sid was teaching him a lesson.”

Schmidt nodded grimly. The boy must've really gone overboard, for one of the uncles to deal out corporeal punishment.

Well, as disturbances went, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but he wasn't going to let Blue get away with mouthing off. He was always making snide remarks, it was no wonder he got in trouble so much.

“Confine them to cells for the night,” he said. “Take Frank to see Dr. Curtis first. Put Minion in the tank.”

“What?!” Blue screeched. The noise lanced right through Schmidt's jaw and set his teeth on edge. Blue pushed off from the wall and pointed at Frank and Sid. “They get to go back to their cells! Why not Minion? That's not fair!”

Schmidt turned slowly and walked over to the boy. Blue shrank into his collar, but he didn't back up. He stared at the chief security officer with a mixture of defiance and consternation, like a Chihuahua who, having bravely confronted an intruder, has suddenly realized he is facing a Great Dane.

“That's all I hear from you,” Schmidt said quietly. “'It's not fair.' 'Nothing happened.' And, my personal favorite, 'I didn't do anything.'”

The kid twitched and grimaced. It was rare to see him so flat-footed. Usually he could spit out a smart remark without having to think twice.

“But I  _didn't_ do anything,” Blue said, gulping. “I was---just---” 

“Like hell he didn't!” Frank barked suddenly.

“That's right, scumbag, he  _didn't!_ ” Sid snarled, face reddening.

“Up yours, fag,” was Frank's carefully thought out rejoinder. If he was counting on the guards' presence to keep him safe, he once again underestimated Sid's capacity for mindless violence.

Sid was at his throat in a single bound.

“Break 'em up! Break 'em up!” Schmidt shouted. It took three guards to pry Sid's fingers off Frank's neck.

“Yeah, you're real tough, beatin' up women and kids!” Sid yelled as Frank coughed and spluttered. It was quickly turning into a wrestling match. The guards were bearing Sid down with sheer numbers.

Lenny took half a step forward.

Schmidt stared into his eyes. “Don't,” he said quietly, and Lenny, very slowly, settled back. Smart man, Schmidt thought.

“That's it. Sid goes to solitary confinement,” Schmidt ordered. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, a glimpse of blue and orange, and flung his arm out, but Blue was too quick. The kid ran straight for Minion.

Schmidt was momentarily blocked by the guards' efforts to contain Sid, but it didn't really matter. That robot suit was pretty heavy, despite its small size, and Minion was not very fast, they wouldn't get far...

Blue reached into the body of the robot suit, there was a small 'pop', and then he was sprinting across the yard, with Minion's containment unit clutched to his chest. The empty robot body tipped over with a crash.

“Stop him!” Schmidt shouted. Iverson made a grab at the flying figure. The boy spun, ducked under his arm, and dashed through an opening in the silent, bemused knot of prisoners. After he was past, the gap closed again.

Iverson, the idiot, tried to bull his way through, but didn't make much progress, owing to the fact that the other prisoners were all suddenly, and purely coincidentally, in the way.

Schmidt's jaw tightened. It was the usual dumb act that was all part of the casual push-and-shove game that occurred daily between prisoners and guards. The prisoners were not above getting slightly involved in the drama, as long as they didn't get in too much trouble for it.

“Iverson!” he said sharply, and Iverson took his hand away from the taser he was about to draw. Schmidt glared at him. What did he think he was going to do, electrocute his way through the crowd? Of _course_ prisoners had to do what the guards made them do, but Schmidt didn’t feel like spending the rest of the night busting heads.

“Get on the horn,” he ordered Iverson, to give the fool something else to do. “Tell the guys inside to catch the kid and hold onto him until I get there. Don't sound the alarm,” he added, to Chavez, to everyone in general.

Sid Bauerman, face down on the ground while they cuffed his hands, was laughing. “Too fast for you morons!” he said gleefully.

“The hole. _Now,_ ” Schmidt ordered, stabbing a finger. “Everybody back inside. Come on, let's go!” The guards led Sid and Frank away, and the other guards and prisoners began to head back in.

Damn that kid! Starts a fight and takes off. A prison brat through and through, and the sooner that the warden realized it, the better.

\- - - - - - - - -

Once inside the building, Megamind skidded to a brisk walk. A man in orange who was running tended to draw the eye. _Guess I am a man now,_ he thought bitterly. _I can start complaining about my bunions and worrying over dental appointments._ Clearly, getting smacked around by a slobbering bigot was some kind of rite of passage.

The silence was deafening. Shouldn't the alarms be going off? The air was heavy, and he felt like he was wading through molasses.

Minion cleared his throat. “Do you think...maybe...warden's office?” he hazarded.

Megamind scowled. “Honestly, Minion, every time some little thing happens, you think I should go hide under the warden's desk!” _Besides,_ he thought, _that's the first place they'll look._ Out loud he said, “We'll hide out, lay low, and wait for the grown-ups to quit acting like maniacs.”

“How long will that take?” Minion asked, his little face crinkling.

“What, to find a place to hide or for everyone to quit acting like maniacs?”

“Um...both.”

“Should only take a few minutes for the first. As for the second, that should only take about, oh...” he sighed. “...forever.”

Two guards came around the corner. Sweat prickled between his shoulder blades. He kept walking. Okay. The lights here were intermittent, making alternating pools of shadow and light. If he timed it right, he would be in shadow when the guards came level, and hopefully they wouldn't notice his messed up lip, or the bump on the side of his head from where Frank had knocked him into the wall. It could lead to inconvenient questions.

One of the guards smiled quizzically at him, and gestured at Minion.

“Takin' him for a walk?” the man asked. “You forgot his legs.”

Megamind smiled brightly and kept going. Quickly. Walk like you know where you're going, that was imperative.

“Hi, Mr. Henfling! Minion's balance mechanism is off-kilter he can't maneuver without sending the relays into overdrive, and that'll wear out the relays pretty quick, so I'm going to pick up the tool kit. To reconfigure the balance mechanism. And re-set the relays,” he said. How many times had he said 'relays'? He was talking too fast.

The guard, brow wrinkling, smiling in mild bemusement, turned to follow his progress, and his explanation, as Megamind moved down the hall, then turned to follow his co-worker.

Megamind huffed out the breath that he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He had to get out of sight. He'd gotten on the wrong side of Schmidt, who had about as much empathy as a drill sergeant. His dealings with the security chief had never before included such brazen, open defiance. Lots of lines were getting crossed today.

He heard the crackle of the walkie-talkie, and Henfling's voice raised in question.

Megamind picked up the pace.

Then there was the sound of hurrying footsteps, growing louder, and a shout.

Megamind was already flitting around the next corner, and accelerating.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

The supply closet wasn't his first choice, but things were getting pretty sketchy, and it wasn't locked. He got in just ahead of the pursuing guards and got a folding chair jammed under the handle. He leaned against it and was almost bounced off by the sudden pounding on the other side.

“Come on, Blue, open up!”

“Make me!” he yelled. _Oh, that was clever,_ he thought. _Give 'em a challenge._ Panting, he slid down to the floor, with Minion in his lap. Running full tilt through the halls carrying a ten pound water-filled containment unit was not something he normally did. It was a heck of a workout. The guards were still knocking, and telling him to open up. He surveyed the surroundings. It was barely bigger than a couple of coffins put together. Yikes. He _would_ have to think of that. A card table and three more folding chairs were jammed in there. There were boxes of pens, printer ink, bottles of white-out, and scads of typing paper, forms, and other miscellaneous papers. There was a small air vent near the ceiling, about four by two inches, too small even for him to squeeze through.

The steady knocking had ceased, though occasionally some lunkhead delivered a couple of knocks, on the off-chance that maybe _this_ time he'd open the door. More guards were gathering. The prime topic of conversation was that the kid had locked himself in the closet, though rather stronger and increasingly colorful language was being used.

Feeling miserable, he lay his elbows on his knees and put his head on his clasped hands. They never listened. The guards told you what to do and you did it, or there were consequences.

Except with Uncle Al. Al at least listened. And if he still told you what to do, he at least _explained,_ with regret, why it had to happen. Sometimes he even came up with a compromise, left an opening for you to salvage your pride. Heck, sometimes he even sided with you instead of with the other guards, which generally was a major breach. Guards did not take the side of the prisoners... unless the guard was Al Kopecki, who operated under a different set of rules. _Had_ operated under different rules. Uncle Al would have sorted this whole mess out in no time. Even Schmidt used to listen to him.

Why did Uncle Sid have to be such a spazz? The blow from Sid hadn't been as bad as the one from Frank, but somehow it bruised him more deeply.

A sort of respectful murmur had fallen over the grumbling guards, and Megamind heard Schmidt's terse voice. He pushed himself to his feet, still holding the fish bowl. Minion glanced from him to the door and back again. Megamind gave him what was meant to be a reassuring grin, but his heart wasn't really in it.

The heavy, deliberate steps of the approaching security chief was the only sound in the world.

When the knock landed, he jumped back into the card table.

“Open up, Blue,” Schmidt said.

Megamind cleared his throat. “Okay, if you would be so good as to clear the hall, I'll just pick up Minion's robot suit, and then I can see my own way back,” he said. He was quite proud that his voice hardly even shook at all.

There was a weighty silence.

_Oh well,_ Megamind thought. _It was worth a shot._

“Kid,” Schmidt said, “I _was_ going to put Minion in the tank for the night. If I have to break this door down, it'll be for three.” The tone of his voice suggested that he was taking great pains to be patient, but it was a limited time offer.

Minion's eyes were pools of agony. “Three days?” he whispered. “That's a long time!”

“Don't worry, Minion, he's bluffing,” Megamind whispered desperately. “No deal!” he said loudly. “Breaking down the door to this...fine...” his eyes roved around the paper stacks and boxes of pens that lined the walls, “...supply closet is not to anyone's advantage! Why, it'd probably come out of your paycheck. So if I were you I'd think twice before---”

“And loss of privileges,” Schmidt said. “No workshop. No library.”

Megamind winced. He had a feeling that he was losing ground. “I'll need---need your assurance, of course, your solemn word, that if I come out quietly, Minion comes with me back to---”

“Kid, I am not striking any deals,” Schmidt said. “Especially with someone who has nothing to deal _with_. This is what is going to happen. You are going to open this door. You will be confined to your cell. Minion goes in the tank. No compromises. In fact, if you don't open this door, it'll be a week with no privileges, and no Minion.”

“Sir, a week's a _really_ long time!” Minion whispered frantically.

“I don't suppose,” Megamind said with dwindling hope, “that a solemn promise of future good behavior would---”

“Break it down,” Schmidt ordered.

“Hey! Wait! All right, I'm coming out!” Megamind yelled. “So, um, it's still just confinement for one night, right?” Removing the chair and opening the door was torture.

The anticipation of getting manhandled was almost worse than the actual handling. A granite-faced Schmidt stepped into the closet and all the air was sucked out of the room. He took Minion and gave him to another guard to carry. He himself grabbed Megamind's arm in an iron grip and marched him along the corridor.

Megamind could feel his ears burning under the pressure of the guards' amused, smug looks. He set his jaw and stared steadily ahead. Schmidt's grip was just short of painful, but at least he didn't force him into a quick step, like some other guards did.

What was the use of trying to explain anything? It would be a waste of breath. Schmidt had already made up his mind that he was the instigator of the trouble in the yard. His impulsive flight only confirmed it. At least the ordeal was almost over, he'd be back in his cell, and poor Minion would be sent to the tank, but at least they'd be out of sight, and he could drop the brave act.

They went through one checkpoint, then another. He was taken past cells that were, mercifully, mostly empty, since most of the prisoners were at the mess hall. They seemed to be taking a long time to get back. Then he realized where they were headed.

He balked so hard that Schmidt actually paused.

“Take me back!” he cried. He didn't think he could take any more yelling today. “You said you were taking me to my cell!”

Surprisingly, Schmidt did not look any happier than he did. He resumed walking. Megamind had to start walking again, too. It was either that or be dragged.

“Kid, if I don't take you to the warden now, he will wonder why I didn't,” Schmidt said. “He wants to be kept informed of your behavior, no matter what he's going through.”

_What he's going through? What about me?_ Megamind thought. “Danny boy get himself arrested?” he said sarcastically.

Schmidt silenced him with a look.

“It's not any of your business,” he said darkly. “You keep your mouth shut.”

“I really didn't do anything, you know,” Megamind said. He grabbed hold of the immovable hand clamped to his arm.

Schmidt kept walking.

“Or say anything, either!” Megamind grunted, trying to pry off the iron fingers. Schmidt did not even seem to notice that Megamind was trying to squirm free.

“I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Schmidt said, and marched him up the stairs to his doom.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Schmidt barely got past his opening sentence.

“Frank Wilson,” the warden snapped.

Schmidt stopped talking and nodded grimly. Blue stared at his shoes.

Parker looked at him through a growing haze. He pushed back from the desk and walked past Schmidt and the boy into the outer office.

His assistant, Andrew Johnson was leaning over the aquarium talking to Minion, but when the warden emerged, Andrew quickly went back to his desk. Minion hid behind the castle.

Parker went to the water cooler and took a paper cup, filled it with water, and downed it in one gulp. He crushed the cup and dropped it in the wastebasket. He took out his handkerchief and put some water on it. He went back into his office, and shut the door quite a bit harder than was necessary. Blue flinched. Parker gave him the handkerchief.

“Clean yourself off,” he ordered gruffly. Blue took it without looking and held it to his lip, wincing.

He stood in front of the boy, looking down at his bald blue head. Just one quiet day. Was that too much to ask? Especially today of all days. He had to deal with this now, on top of a night of little sleep and he'd just kicked his eldest son out of the house. It was too much to dig, once again, for the last dregs of his patience and try to cajole and wheedle the truth out of his young ward. There was no point, especially when it was so obvious what had happened. The words came out hard and fast.

“Didn't I tell you to stay away from him?” Parker said harshly. “The man's volatile! He almost killed his wife. Did you know he put one of his own kids in the hospital last year? Did I or didn't I tell you to stay away from him!”

Blue was silent.

“Answer me!” he barked.

Blue mumbled, “Yes...but...he came up to me...”

“Oh, really,” Parker said, putting his hands on his hips. “And why would he do that?”

He swallowed hard and said “He said...he...”

Megamind twisted the handkerchief in his hands. Frank Wilson's ugly words rose in his mind: _I'm not havin'_ _ **that**_ _lookin' at my daughter._ And the vile names that Frank had called him. To his shame and horror, he could feel his breath catch in his throat and tears well up in his eyes. If he repeated what Frank said, he would not be able to hold them back. He would stand here _crying_ , in front of warden and _Schmidt._

The warden's gaze would soften with compassion, and understanding, and pity. He couldn't stand it. He could put up with a lot from the old man, but not pity. He shook with the effort of holding it in. He could not, he _would_ not, stand here sobbing.

“I don't know,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You don't know,” Parker repeated flatly. “Do you go out of your way to deliberately ignore everything I tell you? This isn't a game. Your life shouldn't be all a game of seeing how far you can push somebody before they snap!”

Blue stared at the floor, blinking hard. The handkerchief was getting twisted into a rope.

“Don't you care about your own safety? Or even Minion's? What does it take for you to keep your mouth shut!”

Blue trembled. Parker crossed his arms. “What do you have to say for yourself, Blue?” Parker said, tapping his foot.

He muttered something.

“What?” Parker said. “Louder, please.”

The boy drew himself up straight, and lifted his head.

“I  _ said _ ,” Blue said loudly, looking up with gleaming eyes, “that I am practicing keeping my mouth shut. And the name's Megamind, as I am continually forced to remind you and every other half-wit in the vicinity. Though I suppose your puny intellect finds it difficult to accept change, even a change for the better.” 

Puny intellect? _Half-wit?_ Those words should not be coming out of that mouth, in that determined, high-pitched voice. Parker took a step toward him. The boy closed his eyes and drew a sharp breath.

Later, as Parker lay in bed staring into the dark, replaying the conversation over and over in his mind, he thought that was the only thing he did right. Not striking the child.

He stared down at Blue, at his swollen lip, his scuffed and bruised head. The boy glared back at him.

“That is not the issue here,” Parker said, almost calmly. “I'm trying to keep you safe. I'm...”

“Maybe it would help if you think of it as a title,” he said. “Of power. Of dignity. Of...”

Parker lost the last vestiges of calm. “You sound like a lunatic!” he shouted. “I am not calling you that!”

“I'd rather be a lunatic than a nobody!” the boy said fiercely. “A John Doe!”

“I have offered to change it,” Parker said through his teeth. “But I am not putting 'Megamind' on your birth certificate! It's ludicrous! It should be something...” He stopped.

The boy's eyes narrowed. “Something _normal?_ ” he hissed. “Like John Parker, Jr.? I don't think so.” He crossed his arms and looked away, face scrunched into a scowl.

Parker stared at him. How had it come to this? How had they become enemies?

Schmidt cleared his throat. Parker glanced over at the security chief. He'd forgotten that Schmidt was there. He looked back at the boy. Blue glared at him sideways, angry, defiant. Feral. There was a definite feeling of distance, of rage insurmountable. And Parker didn't know how to bridge the chasm.

“Have someone take him back to his cell,” he said to Schmidt. “I need to have a word with you.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After Blue was escorted out, Parker shut the door and said, “Frank Wilson gets three weeks of solitary. Three weeks. What?” he demanded. Schmidt had an uncomfortable expression. “Is he back in the comfort of his own cell?” At Schmidt's nod, Parker exploded.

“Well, did Wilson strike first or not! I'm assuming that Blue didn't take the first swing at someone three times his size! What the hell are you always going on about procedure for if you don't follow it!”

Schmidt raised his hands up in a  _ mea culpa. _ “Sorry. All right. You're right. I guess I wasn't thinking about it like that. Wilson  _ was _ the first to make physical contact.” He rubbed his chin. “You know, three weeks is pretty long. Some might consider it cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Cruel and unusual would be taking a tire iron and beating him with it!” Parker said, pacing back and forth in a fury. For a few insane seconds he contemplated going down to his car, and getting the tire iron out of the trunk, and going to Frank Wilson's cell and...

It was unthinkable. Parker thought about it anyway. He would never do such a thing. Never. But there were times when it seemed like a few good whacks with a length of metal, applied to the right head, would make everything all right with the world.

“All right, John, all right,” Schmidt said, holding a hand up again, beginning to get alarmed. “I'm not arguing with you, I'm just pointing it out.”

Parker fell into his chair. “Why does he do it?” he asked no one in particular. Schmidt knew he wasn't talking about Wilson anymore. “Why does he always...” He ran his hand through his hair.

“If it makes you feel any better, he even aggravated the uncles. Sid slapped him upside the head, too,” said Schmidt. And he told Parker everything he knew about the events in the yard.

Parker stared at him and tried to process this new and disturbing information. Talk about volatile, Sid Bauerman was _it_. But he'd never hit Blue before. Had he? He was usually one of the boy's staunchest defenders.

What the hell was going on?

Parker was bone-weary. He had to get home. He had to make sure the locksmith had done his job, had to make sure that Dan hadn't come back, or his scuzzy 'business associates'. He'd warned Melanie and Sammy to not answer the door for anybody, and to call the police if their brother so much as set foot on the property. It seemed like reasonable and logical precautions, but now that the sun was down, Parker's fears and concerns were magnified a hundredfold, the cover of darkness unleashing the monsters in his mind. He did not want to come home to again find strange men lounging around the living room demanding to know where Dan was, to find Melanie and Sammy hiding in Melanie's bedroom upstairs...

He had to get home. He looked at the clock. Melanie would have picked up Sammy from basketball practice by now. She was probably getting supper ready. She'd taken on a lot since her mother's confinement. Parker settled for calling, and made sure that Melanie had all the doors locked.

“But when are you coming home?” Melanie asked in a tight voice.

Parker rubbed his eyes. “I'll be home as soon as I can. Look...if Dan comes around, do not open the door. Call Mrs. Oliver.” He paused. “In fact, you and Sammy go over to Mrs. Oliver's, ask her if you can stay with her until I come get you. I'll call her and explain.” Parker hated to bother their neighbor with this business, but she knew some of the family's troubles in any case, and she was discrete and level-headed.

Parker hung up. He sat silently for a moment, staring at his hand that still rested on the phone. He never dreamed that there would come a time when he would have to keep Dan away. He never dreamed...

He shook his head. He turned to Schmidt and said, “Bring Sid Bauerman here.”

Schmidt frowned. “John, would you go home already! Your kids need you.”

“ _All_ my kids need me,” Parker said. He looked around in the desk drawer until he found his address book, and found Mrs. Oliver's number.

Schmidt gave an exasperated snort. “You've done all you can, John,” he said. “More than enough, I'd say! He doesn't appreciate it.You should let it go.”

Parker looked at Schmidt for a moment. “I value your opinion, Walt,” he said. “But I haven't done enough, not by a long shot. Bring Bauerman here, please. I need to have a talk with him.”

Shaking his head, Schmidt left. Parker dialed Mrs. Oliver's phone number.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind sat on the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth and hating everybody. Everybody. Well, not Minion, obviously, but the rest of the world's population was on the receiving end of his mental hate rays.

Did Schmidt have even the most rudimentary understanding of quantum mechanics? Ha! Not likely! Had Uncle Sid ever even heard of the theory of relativity? He very much doubted it! As for Frank Wilson, well, that mental midget probably couldn't even count to twenty without taking off his shoes! As for the warden...

The warden's handkerchief was still gripped in his hand. It was a tangled mess. Carefully he opened it up and smoothed it out on the bed. There was a dark stain on it from where he’d held it to his lip.

When he was little, he'd actually been rather proud that he shared the same first name as the warden. Until he found out what 'John Doe' really meant. Anonymous. Unknown. A label they slapped on some poor slob found dead in a lake.

Despair washed over him.

He'd called the warden a half-wit and the world hadn't ended. It should have. He buried his face in his hands. He was so bad. Why hadn't the old man hit him? Everyone else was getting their licks in!

But of course the warden wouldn't do that, no matter how bad Megamind was. He was a good man. A good man who was saddled with the burden of caring for a couple of orphan alien freaks.

Megamind could feel the pressure building again, his throat tightening. He had to stop it somehow, had to stop the tears from falling. He curled up as tight as he could. When that didn't help he got up and paced around the cell. He stopped in a corner and banged his head against the wall a few times. Nothing worked. He was unraveling.

The pain in his chest was unbearable. He could feel the tears clogging his throat and began pacing again, faster. The air currents made by his movements caused the drawings on his idea wall to curl and flutter gently. Drawings of dinosaurs, his latest obsession, plastered every inch. He stopped and ran his fingers over the papers.

Uncle Al had admired them...

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_“...and the most recent research conducted on their bone structure gives strong evidence that they were actually warm-blooded! Like mammals!” Blue said excitedly. Al Kopecki was peering at a drawing of a cross-section of bone._

_“I thought they were big lizards,” Al said._

_“Not according to Bakker! In_ _ The Dinosaur Heresies _ _he debunks all the old theories,” he said.“They might've even have evolved into_ _**birds!** _ _” he said, flinging his arms out._

_“Get outta here,” Al waved his hand, grinning. “Are you kiddin' me? That's crazy. I don't see any fifty-foot tall birds around! You see any giant birds walkin' around, warden?”_

_The warden lifted a page off the idea wall to examine another picture underneath it. He glanced at Al with a wry grin. “No, Al, I can't say that I have.”_

_Al shook his finger. “You watch it, kid, it ain't right, pullin' an old man's leg.”_

_Blue laughed.“They weren't all giants. Some of them were little, the size of chickens.”_

_“That's what I like about you, kid,” Al said, running his gaze over the pictures on the wall. “Every time I come by, I learn somethin' new.”_

_\- - - - - - - - - - - -_

Megamind rubbed his knuckles over his eye. What was the use? What was the _point?_ He would never go on a paleontological dig. He would never go to university. It was preposterous. Idiotic. Childish.

He looked at the pictures so painstakingly drawn, and hated every single one. Methodically, he took them down one by one and stuffed them into the metal wastebasket. It was difficult to rip down the ones that hung by strings from the ceiling without the stepladder, but he managed.

Men didn't cry. Men took action.

He pulled the box out from under the bed, and got out the smoke-sucker. It didn't fit perfectly over the wastebasket, but it should suffice, especially after securing it with duct tape.You couldn't go wrong with duct tape.

After some more digging, he found the lighter.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book that Megamind mentioned in chapter 3 is real. "The Dinosaur Heresies" by Robert T. Bakker, published in 1986.

Megamind sat on the bed, leaned back against the wall, and propped his chin on his hand.

The duct tape that strapped the smoke-sucker to the wastebasket began to curl and blacken.

Megamind's dangling leg swung back and forth.

He felt calm. Amazingly calm, really. Relaxed. There was something soothing about the warmth of a fire, even if you couldn't see it. The wastebasket was glowing with the intensity of the heat. There was a lot of paper, which burned hot and fast. Within the confined space of the wastebasket, the process was considerably slowed, but it should be complete before too much longer.

He watched a curl of smoke escape from the blackening duct tape. The little wisp was pulled into the auxiliary vent. He smiled in satisfaction. It was performing quite admirably. He could hardly even smell any smoke, and he had a sensitive nose.

Smoking was illegal in all prisons now, but of course many tried to circumvent this rule. He'd made the smoke-sucker for another inmate, but the man had not come through with the promised payment---a carton of snack-size fruit pies. Ironically, it was Uncle Sid who had gone to get the smoke-sucker back, with a minimum of fuss. The inmate was all too happy to hand it over when he saw a livid Sid Bauerman bearing down on him.

Megamind pressed his lips together in a thin line. _You want me to grow up, Uncle Sid? Fine. I can do that. I can look after myself._

Another little bit of smoke arose, and was swiftly pulled in. Strange, he didn't even feel angry anymore, much. Just sort of slow burn that sat in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey!” Oh great, Megamind thought wearily, turning his head toward the corridor. A guard was at the cell door, fumbling to get it open. Just a few more minutes, and all evidence of the fire would've been gone.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Henfling,” Megamind said, letting his hand fall from his chin. “It's not going to blow up. It is glowing from the intense...”

Henfling got the door open. “Help! Fire!” he shouted down the hall. He fell into the cell, eyes a-goggle. “You've got to get out!” he yelled, grabbing Megamind by the arm. He yanked him out into the corridor. “Stay there!” Henfling cried, and spun around in a little circle, shouting for help again.

“Don't listen to me. Feel free to panic,” Megamind grumbled, rubbing his arm. “Look, my invention is quite adequate, I assure you, but, if you must, there is a fire extinguisher right around the corner...”

Henfling ran back into the cell. Megamind realized what he was going to do a moment too late. “Don't touch it, you fool!” he shouted, but the guard kicked the wastebasket over. The device burst off when the whole set-up hit the floor. The dried-out duct tape was unable to hold it in place any longer and the trapped fire roared into brief, vicious life. Henfling shrieked and jumped, flapping his arms, as his pant leg caught fire.

Megamind dashed in, grabbed the blanket off the bed and tried to smother the flames. “Hold still!” he cried, but Henfling was leaping around in a frenzy.

Other guards ran into the cell, into the billowing smoke, and caught him. As they beat out the fire, Megamind slipped back out into the hall, coughing.

“They never listen,” he muttered as another guard ran in with the fire extinguisher.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Parker sat on the edge of his desk, listening to Sid Bauerman's accounting of recent events. He stared steadily at a point on the worn carpeting, just to the right of the prisoner's foot. He didn't move, but a slow flush crawled up his neck.

“So all of this,” he said, when Sid finished, “All this happened because he was watching some girl out in the parking lot?”

Sid shrugged. “I guess. Me and Lenny were...kinda busy...”

Parker waved a hand impatiently. “All right, it's no secret,” he said.

“No harm in looking,” Sid said. “But you gotta understand, warden, a lot of guys around here aren't gonna like some blue weirdo gawkin' at their girls. Kid has to wake up.”

Parker thought about this for a moment. Sid clearly thought he'd been doing Blue a favor. “Sid, there is no easy way to say this,” he said. “I appreciate the efforts that you and Lenny and the other uncles have made in looking after Blue, especially when I have so often been preoccupied with other matters. You have saved his hide more than once, and for that I will always be grateful. But if you ever lay a hand on him again, I will see you transferred to San Quentin.”

“Okay, warden, okay,” Sid said, lifting his hands up, much like the security chief had done earlier. “You're the boss. Don't see what the big deal is,” he muttered, settling himself back into the chair. “My old man used to smack me around all the time. Didn't hurt me any.”

Parker waited, but the irony of the statement did not seem to occur to Sid, who was serving a sentence for aggravated assault. Parker sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Almost to himself he said, “He's only twelve. Give him time to grow up.”

Sid frowned. “His birthday was two days ago, warden. Thirteen now.” Sid cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. He looked around at the walls. Anything was better than looking at the warden's face just then. “Don't matter anyway,” Sid said, trying to ease the blow. “You think the next guy that attacks him is gonna ask for his ID first? Still a pipsqueak, but you see how tall he's getting? He don't look a little kid anymore.”

 _I can't believe I forgot his birthday,_ the warden thought. _I'm probably the only one in the whole place who forgot._ The ongoing drama with his eldest son had consumed most of his attention lately. Too much of his attention. Blue had, once again, slipped through the cracks.

Sid tried to be comforting. “It's okay, warden, I don't think he noticed that you...” his voice trailed off. He shook his head. “Hey, me and the guys, we got him a magazine subscription!” he said brightly. “I guess we should've okayed it with you first, but it's National Geographic, that should be all right, huh? It's educational. You shoulda heard what mag Julio wanted to get him,” he chuckled.

Then the fire alarm went off.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Chavez saw to it that the alarm was turned off, and made sure that someone called the fire department to tell them not to come and that everything was under control. He had a couple of the men take the wounded guard to the infirmary. He didn't scold the man. Henfling's face was almost as red as his leg, and that nasty burn was probably punishment enough for now. Schmidt would give him hell soon enough for panicking and forgetting proper procedure.

A gray haze of smoke still hung in the air and he coughed. He'd gotten a lungful of smoke when he rushed into the cellto extinguish Henfling. Chavez rounded the corner just in time to see Iverson jab the kid in the shoulder.

“Give me the lighter,” Iverson demanded.

Blue didn't budge from his slouch against the wall. He turned his head a little and looked at Iverson. “I didn't hear the magic word,” he said.

Iverson grabbed the kid by the collar, nearly pulling him off his feet. “You little brat, I oughta...”

“Peter! Enough!” Chavez snapped. What the hell! Couldn't he tell the kid was baiting him? Iverson was lucky the warden didn't see that.

Iverson, his face like a thunderstorm, released him and turned away. He went to stand with a couple of other guards a little ways down. Blue shook himself and straightened his collar with a vigorous snap, then resumed his wall-slouch.

Chavez coughed again. Blue coughed. He must've gotten a lungful, too.

Chavez looked around at the hall, at the lingering smoke haze. The boy's cell was in a unique position in the building. It was in an odd corner, and didn't face any other cells. He enjoyed an unusual amount of privacy. It was a wonder that the boy didn't produce more devices of mayhem.

The entire cell was awash with flame-retardant. Every available surface was covered, the bed, the boxes that held the boy's possessions, the wastebasket with its pathetic remains. The drawings that plastered the back wall were marvelous. That used to plaster the wall. How could he...?

The boy's mocking smile was almost as disturbing as the mass burning.

“Henfling's got a bad burn. Probably third degree,” Chavez said conversationally.

Blue picked at his fingernails. “I told him to leave the wastebasket alone,” he said. “It's not my fault that he didn't listen.”

“That may be,” said Chavez, “But his first move was to get you out of what he believed to be harm's way, yes?”

Blue shifted his weight. “I suppose,” he said. He coughed again into his fist.

Chavez held out his hand. “May I have the lighter, please?” he asked. “Or the matches?”

Blue glanced sideways at him from under lowered eyelids, then he lifted his chin and smiled. “Only for you, Mr. Chavez,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Since you ask so politely. Nice to see that some people haven't forgotten their manners.”

Down the hall, Iverson scowled and hooked a thumb in his belt.

 _I swear, this kid's tongue should be registered as a lethal weapon_ , Chavez thought.

“Watch closely, now,” the boy said, grinning and standing straight. He waggled his fingers in the air. Chavez sighed and crossed his arms.

Blue made several passes in the air with his hands, then... “Voila!” he said, holding up the lighter with a flourish, and handed it to Chavez. “Now if you good gentlemen would prepare another room for me, I would certainly appreciate it,” Blue said. “My current cell is in a deplorable state.”

Blue looked past Chavez and his lazy smile faded. Chavez turned around.

The warden was standing by the cell. The boy sidled, ever so slightly, behind Chavez.

No one spoke. Parker stared at them for a moment, and then he stepped into the dripping, foam-covered cell.

Chavez rocked back and forth, waiting. What else was there to do? The warden had to see for himself. He imagined the warden looking around, searching for the cause of the fire, stopping at the back and swiping a hand over the place where the drawings had once hung...

Blue was slouched against the wall again, but his arms were crossed over his chest and his shoulders were hunched, his arrogance gone.

The warden came out of the cell, wiping his hand on his jacket, leaving a smear of foam on it. He walked over to Chavez. Blue was very still. “Any injuries?” the warden asked.

Chavez explained about the guard's burn, Blue's cough. He coughed himself a couple of times. “I want everyone who breathed in smoke to report to the infirmary,” Parker said. “You too, Mr. Chavez. Schmidt went down to solitary. I'm going to the infirmary. Tell him to report to me there.”

He addressed the boy for the first time. “And you. Let's go.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind held the collar of his uniform closed tight. “It was just a little smoke. I don't need to get undressed,” he snapped at the doctor.

The doctor heaved a weary sigh. “Fine. Just open the top of your shirt enough so I can put the stethoscope on your back and chest. I have to listen to your lungs.”

Megamind submitted with bad grace to the doctor's instructions, barely opening his collar enough for the doctor to reach in. “Geez! Your hands are freezing!” he yelped.

The doctor pressed an equally cold stethoscope to his back. “Deep breath,” he ordered. Good.” He moved the stethoscope to Megamind's chest.

Megamind was acutely aware of the warden's presence just beyond the curtain of the exam area. Painfully aware. And then he heard the warden talking to Schmidt.

“Open your mouth,” the doctor droned, producing a tongue depressor. “Very good. Say 'ah'.”

 _Blast it!_ Megamind thought angrily. _I missed what they said._

“Any prolonged bouts of coughing? Shortness of breath? Hoarseness?” the doctor asked.

“No,” Megamind grumbled. This fool's idle questions were making it impossible to eavesdrop.

"I heard you coughing."

"You said _prolonged_ coughing," Megamind snapped. "I have _occasional_ coughing."

The doctor shone a penlight into his eyes.

“There's nothing wrong with my eyes,” Megamind said irritably.

“Looking for burns on your corneas,” the doctor said. “Standard procedure after a fire.”

Megamind caught a few snatches of words: “...should've...everything?...can't be expected...few minutes...” What were they going on about?

“Here,” the doctor said, handing him a mask.

“What is this?” Megamind demanded.

“Oxygen. Standard treatment for smoke inhalation. I don't think you got too bad a hit, I think we can skip the chest x-ray...”

Megamind breathed into the mask and tried to listen to the muted conversation taking place beyond the curtain, but the doctor's droning voice was making it impossible. The warden and the security chief were moving further away, and their voices faded to an incomprehensible mumble.

An orderly gave him a package of neatly wrapped pajamas and pulled the curtain back. “You'll be spending the night,” the doctor said without looking up from his chart.

“Standard procedure?” Megamind muttered. “Along with the ice-cold hands and monotonous explanations?”

The doctor was immune to his scathing commentary. “It was the warden's request, since your cell is wrecked,” he responded levelly.

There were only a few private rooms. Megamind was rarely in the infirmary overnight, but when he was, they wouldn't allow him to stay on the main floor. He felt a little indignant at being thought of as one of the 'vulnerable' inmates, but he wasn't going to say no to a private room.

An orderly brought Megamind to the room and shut the door. Megamind was left alone. He sat on the edge of the bed. He felt very tired. He stared at the wall for a while, then began to unfold the pajamas. He checked the tag for the size, and _of course_ it was too big. He'd be swimming in this get-up, but he didn't have much choice. His orange uniform stank of smoke.

There was a knock at the door. He waited for it to be opened. After several seconds the knock came again. “Can I come in?” came the warden's gruff voice.

Megamind flushed a little. Asking permission to enter? Well, there was first time for everything. “If I say 'no' will you go away?” he said. _I doubt it._ His hands tightened on the bundle of clothing.

Parker came in and quietly closed the door. Megamind glared at the opposite wall. Parker sat on the other end of the bed. He leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.

Megamind tried to loosen the death grip he had on the pajamas. He couldn't judge the old man's mood. His stomach was in knots.

 _Why isn't he saying anything?_ Megamind thought. _Better yet, why doesn't he go away! Doesn't he ever go home? I suppose he's going to give me another lecture, or yell at me. Or maybe he feels all guilty. Well, if he thinks we're going to have some kind of heart-to-heart, he can forget it! I'm not talking. Sit here all night, see if I care. I don't..._

“I wish Al Kopecki were still around,” the warden said.

Megamind stiffened. This was _not_ fair. This was a sneak attack.

“Al always...seemed to know what was going on,” the warden continued in that same quiet tone.

Megamind flung the pajamas at the warden's startled face and leaped to his feet. He went to the door but Parker got there at almost the same time and leaned against it. Megamind kicked the door hard, making it rattle in its frame, and retreated to the back.

He was trapped, the room was too hot, and he hated it.

He paced helplessly around the confined space, made even smaller because he was trying to avoid coming within arm's reach of the warden.

“This is unacceptable. You are not allowed to do that,” Megamind said, his voice ragged. “You cannot come in here and start talking about some...some old geezer who used to pat me on the head once in a while and tell me I was a good boy.”

His voice cracked. “You don't...just because he's dead...you think, just because... those were my drawings, I can do what I want with them, it's not my fault that idiot got burned, you think everything's my fault...”

He threw a furious look at the old man. There were bags under the warden's eyes as if he hadn't slept the last two nights either. He often thought of him as 'the old man' but now Parker really did look old, watching him as he paced around and around, touching the walls, the nightstand, the bed, around and around.

Panting, he slammed himself into the corner. His throat hurt and it was so hard to breathe. He pounded on the wall with his fist and growled. This was intolerable. The warden stood by the door, watching, just looking at him.

“Stop looking at me!” he shouted. “Don't you know that it's dangerous?” He tried to force his face into a mocking smile, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate.

“It's not safe to stare,” Megamind said bitterly. “Pay attention! Don't you know anything? Or are you too stupid? If you even look like you're staring that's enough of an excuse! You have to be careful! Don't you know that by now? You have to be careful!” He covered his face with his arms and wept.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He had no strength left and he sagged into the warden's chest. The warden held him. The warden held him and gently squeezed his shoulders and said lots of useless little things like “it's okay, bud” and “I'm so sorry” which only made him cry harder.

The warden steered him over to the bed and sat down with him. Megamind wept until he was drained.

The flow stopped but he remained within the curl of the warden's arms. Carefully he unclenched his fist from the warden's soaked shirt. He could hear the old man's heartbeat. He felt the old man's bristly chin against his head. He sniffled and rubbed his wrist across his nose. The warden always wore the same cologne.

“I miss Al,” he mumbled.

“I know,” the warden said.

Megamind sniffed again. He licked his sore lip. The tears were making it sting. “I don't really think you're stupid,” he told the warden. “Based on your command of vocabulary alone, you're probably in the top ten percent of prison employees.”

Parker snorted, his chest vibrating with a brief chuckle. “Gee, thanks,” he said drily.

There was a knock at the door and Schmidt walked in.

Megamind sat up abruptly and scrubbed his arm over his face and scooted over.

The warden sighed and let his arm fall away. “Thank you for bringing Minion, Walt,” he said.

Schmidt held out Minion in his containment unit.

One look at Schmidt's face and Megamind knew that he must have heard him crying, and had waited outside the door until the waterworks were over and it was safe to come in.

Angry and embarrassed, Megamind snatched Minion out of his hands. “Yes, thank you Walt,” he said snidely.

Schmidt froze. Parker looked at him in surprise. _From miserable to sarcastic, in under ten seconds. That's gotta be a new record,_ he thought.

Megamind sat stiffly, his arms wrapped around the containment unit. He didn't dare look at Schmidt, or warden, or even Minion. He knew he was being petty and churlish. The warden must have sent Schmidt to collect Minion and bring him back to Megamind. Schmidt couldn't have helped overhearing. But did they think he would fall at Schmidt's feet and kiss his hand? He was the one who had taken Minion away to begin with.

Still, he knew that he never would have let those words fly out if the warden hadn't been sitting right there next to him. And he was certain that Schmidt knew it, too.

Megamind felt his face grow hot. _This is the last time I hide behind the warden, for ANY reason,_ he vowed.

Parker stood up and shook the security chief's hand. “Thank you,” he said as sincerely as possible, to make up for his ward's rudeness. Schmidt just nodded, as if he'd expected no less. They went to the door, talking, and Megamind noticed the gray hairs on the warden's head.

He had another dreadful thought. What if the warden died?

He felt as cold as if he were plunging into the frozen depths of outer space. He didn't remember everything, but still, his memory was very good, and very long, and certain images were burned forever into his brain. Like his parents, bravely smiling at him for the last time... the warden's wife, Joyce, standing at the window of the prison rec room, rubbing her arms, and staring, just staring... Uncle Al, the old guard being rushed by on the stretcher, Megamind barely caught a glimpse of him through the crowd as the medics hurried him out to the ambulance... Gone.

He couldn't imagine the warden not being there, but it could happen. He could simply disappear, just like his wife, or drop dead, like Uncle Al.

Megamind shuddered. What would happen to him and Minion? He couldn't afford to depend on the warden. It was too risky. All the more reason to keep his distance.

It was him and Minion against the world.

Minion bumped himself against the inside of the bowl.

“Are you all right, Sir?” he whispered anxiously.

Megamind looked down at him, and let his face relax. “Yes, Minion, I'm perfectly all right.” He shook himself again and gave Minion a smile. “Beat the rap, didncha,” Megamind said. “Let you out early for good behavior?”

“You bet, Sir,” Minion said.

Parker closed the door and sat down on the bed again. He cleared his throat and they looked up. “I should have listened to your side of the story,” he said. “But if...”

And then he launched into some tired old speech about racism, and how he shouldn't let the actions of ignorant people affect him.

“It's quite all right, warden,” Megamind said, when the old man paused for breath. “It probably would have happened sooner or later. I shall take care to exercise more caution from now on, as to where, and who, my alien gaze falls upon. Clearly, the oversized head and blue skin are a...volatile combination that is disturbing to some people. And just to clarify matters, I was not actually looking at Frank Wilson's daughter in particular,” he said. “That was a misconception on his part. I assure you, the women of this fair city are safe from me.”

He smiled mirthlessly and shook his head. If he ever showed any of that sort of interest in a girl, he could well imagine what her response would be! No, he wasn't going to leave himself open to that particular brand of humiliation. If any girl ever had her eye on him, it would only be so she could detect if he made any sudden movements. He was certain that her other eye would be fixed on the closest escape route!

Parker looked at him with concern. “I'm not worried that you're going to...to bother any girls,” he said. “I just don't want to see you get hurt, Blue.”

Megamind sighed. “Megamind, warden. The name's Megamind.” He was going to have to be patient, and consistent. The warden would get used to the name. They all would.

He felt he had explained things quite adequately, and had done his best to keep most of the sarcasm out of his voice, to put ol' warden's mind at ease, so he was a little annoyed by the way that Parker just sat there and looked at him, and seemed to grow even older. “And I'm not going to get hurt, warden,” he said a little impatiently. “You can be sure of that.”

He would not allow himself to get hurt again. In any way.


	5. Chapter 5

As Parker approached the mechanic's bay he heard the subdued hum of the welding torch. He entered the room. The air was filled with the smell of grease and motor oil, and the sharp tang of metal. The boy was welding one slab of metal to a framework.

Minion, who was turned away from the harsh light of the welder, saw the warden enter. He sidled over, and when the boy paused in his work, he gave him a nudge. Blue glanced down at Minion, who nodded in Parker's direction. The welding mask swung in Parker's direction, and then Blue lifted the visor.

Parker walked over to them. Blue, his expression guarded, removed the heavy gloves and put them on the table. Parker cleared his throat, which had gone a little dry. “Happy birthday,” he said, holding out the wrapped package to him. “Or...I suppose it could be an early Christmas present.” He'd thought about hiding it behind his back, but that would've been a cheap attempt to get a delighted smile out of the boy.

A flicker of interest passed across Blue's careful mask of indifference. “Very well,” the boy said. “I'll open it later if you don't mind. I'm rather busy at the moment, but you may place it over there.” He nodded toward the table.

Dust motes floated through the air. “All right,” Parker said, putting the present down. He did feel a little disappointed. It was a video game, and his fifteen year old Sammy had assured him that it was one that any boy would kill for. Since Sammy was practically glued to his own games, Parker believed it. He took a look at the metal framework on the table. “This is the core, right?”

Blue shrugged as if allowing that it might be the core, or it might not.

“Coming along okay?” Parker asked, bending over to peer at it. He couldn't really make any sense out of the jumble of wires and, what were they, motherboards? And circuits and whatnot.

“You could say that,” Blue said taking the helmet off and rubbing his neck. It was custom fitted for his head, and was heavy.

The skeletal frame for the new robot body stood nearby, lashed upright between a couple of ladders. The warden walked over to examine it. “It's...quite tall,” Parker said.

“Yeah, I'm gonna be big,” Minion piped excitedly.

“You're going to go through a real growth spurt, Minion,” Blue said, grinning. They laughed and slapped each others' hands.

“Don't you think this is all a bit much?” Parker said.

They looked at him with that special look that only children can give to clueless elders. “You know the old saying, warden,” Blue said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth. “If you can't beat 'em, then build someone who can.”

Parker frowned. “Now wait just a minute...”

“Oh, I don't mean it literally,” the boy said, smirking. “Minion's advanced size will go a long way toward _preventing_ fights. Because I have noticed that large men like Lenny rarely get into fights, while Sid, who is, shall we say, more diminutive, gets into them all the time. Granted, he loses his temper at the drop of a head covering, but still...” he shrugged.

Parker had to admit there was a certain logic to that. He eyed the silent bulk. Minion might have trouble getting through doorways with shoulders like that. He turned and looked at Minion. “There won't be any trouble, will there, Minion,” he said. It wasn't a question.

Minion, trapped between his master and his warden, shifted his feet in a nervous little dance and darted a glance in the boy’s direction. Blue tilted his head in a slight nod and raised an eyebrow. These little nods and twitches and shrugs were all part of their personal code. This particular set of signals may have meant “Go ahead and answer” or “Tell him what he wants to hear.”

“No, warden,” Minion said meekly.

The warden looked solemnly at them. “Because I can put a stop to all of this if there is,” he said, looking at Blue this time and gesturing around at the partially constructed robot suit. He knew full well that if there was any trouble, it probably would not be from Minion.

The boy blinked. “Of course, warden.”

“This is all approved by the security chief?” Parker said.

The boy grimaced. “Yes, yes, yes, it's all taken care of,” he said impatiently. “I've assured Mr. Schmidt that there are no lasers, or battering rams, or sharp implements. I showed him all the components that I will include in the new mechanized body. Not that he knew what he was looking at,” he muttered. Parker frowned again. “Nothing's going to explode,” Blue said, rolling his eyes. He picked up the helmet again. “So if you don't mind, I would like to make some more progress here.” With that, he snapped the visor down and fired up the welder again.

Parker took a stroll around the room again. He was the warden; he had every right to be there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding. He paused by the door before he left. The boy was ignoring his presence with all the determination he could muster. Sparks flew. Minion was moving the arm on the new body up and down. Against his spidery little hand the appendage looked massive.

**Three weeks later**

_I can't believe I agreed to this,_ Megamind thought. The warden had been insistent, and had literally talked himself hoarse so Megamind had said he would do it, if only so the old man would shut up.

The boy marched stiffly across the frozen courtyard to where Henfling stood by the main building, icy winds swirling around him. At least he was alone. He didn’t think he could stand it if Henfling’s buddies were loitering around, soaking up every word.

Henfling glanced at Megamind, then turned his head to survey the courtyard, face carefully blank. Megamind stood at a right angle to the guard. He caught himself rubbing the back of his shoulder and made himself stop. He hadn’t done anything wrong! And here he was expected to act contrite for somoeone else’s stupidity! He’d only agreed to this pretense of regret in order to get the old man off his case.

He shoved his hands behind his back. “Good to see you back at work, Mr. Henfling,” he said briskly. He glanced at the guard to see the effect. Henfling didn't look at him, but he gave a slight nod.

Prisoners milled around the snow-covered courtyard, guards patrolled the walls. All was as it should be, though there was a rather large amount of space surrounding them, as if he and Henfling were inside a force field. He could tell that the man was still favoring his leg, keeping most of his weight off it.

Megamind bit his lip and looked away. _Why had this fool come back to work so quickly?_ he thought. Immediately his excellent memory supplied him with unwelcome details. Henfling, Joseph, age 32, wife Polly, four children, all under the age of six. Worker’s comp currently paid approximately two-thirds of one’s salary.

His jaw tightened and his hands felt hot despite the icy wind. “Sorry about your leg,” he burst out.

Henfling looked at him, then shrugged, his mouth quirking up at the corner in an embarrassed grimace. “Eh, it's all right,” he muttered. “Wasn’t that bad.”

The hard knot in Megamind’s stomach relaxed a fraction. That was odd, he hadn’t even known it was there. The hum of the men in the courtyard talking and exercising swirled around them. “Is that sufficient?” Megamind said, a trifle more testily than he intended.

Henfling looked at him.

Megamind ground his teeth in annoyance. “Have I fulfilled the correct so-see-all obligations of expressing regret?”

Henfling blinked. His mouth moved as he sounded out the syllables. “So-see-all?”

“You know, whatever has to do politeness, the words and actions that relate to living together in society,” Megamind said, frowning.

Comprehension dawned. “Oh, social,” Henfling said, nodding. “Uh...yeah, I guess. I...”

“See you.” Megamind turned on his heel and left. He had more important matters that required his attention.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Frank Wilson went to join the end of the lunch line. He was under the observer's balcony that surrounded the mess hall, right next to the pillar, when the freak boy came around the side of it and leaned against it, crossing his arms. He felt the breeze at his back as the two inmates who had entered the mess hall behind him abruptly departed for another part of the room.

“Welcome back, Frank. How was solitary?”

Frank glowered. “What is this?”

“Interesting thing about this particular spot, Frank,” the boy said conversationally. “It's what's known as a 'sweet spot.' Not immediately visible from all corners of the walkway. Kind of nice when you need to have a private conversation without the guards butting in.”

The prisoners at the nearest tables were aware of the conversation. They were carefully ignoring it, but they watched from out of the corners of their eyes. Some of the uncles were hiding smirks. If the guards got wind of this little exchange, the fun would be over too quick.

Frank felt his face tighten. He'd just gotten out of that hole, and he was sure that the little freak was trying to get him into trouble so they'd dump his ass right back in there again. “Get out of my way,” he said.

And then he felt a heavy tread behind him, and heard the deep hum of extra-large servomotors. He turned to find himself face to face with a fierce-eyed Minion.

“This is Minion's new mechanized suit. So what do you think?” the boy said.

Frank glared at each of them. “I'm not playing your stupid little games. I know what this is. Tryin' to shake me up. I won't have it. Not gonna get pushed around by some circus freak...” The rest of his words were obliterated by Minion's hand closing around his collar.

“Now, see, that's the kind of short-sightedness that can get a person in real trouble, Frank,” Megamind said, examining his nails. “You shouldn't call people names. Didn't they teach you that in shool?”

Frank was turning purple. He grabbed at the metal hand that was restricting the air supply.

“I suppose that, blow for blow, you got a lot worse than you dealt out, so there's not any real reason for Minion to start breaking limbs. This is just a demonstration, really. Stay out of my way from now on, and all will be well. All right, Minion, I believe the point has been made. You can let him down now.”

Minion released him. Gasping and fuming, Frank backed away, rubbing his neck. A group of uncles, seated at a nearby table, burst out laughing.

The exchange had not gone completely unnoticed by the guards. It was clear that something was going on behind the pillar. Iverson marched over, bristling with officious wrath. “What's going on here! What's the hold up!” he barked.

Megamind shrugged. “Merely having a little talk, Mr. Iverson. Right, Frank?”

Frank's face could have soured milk, but he didn't say anything.

Megamind smirked. “Surely it's not against the rules to exchange a few pleasantries.”

Iverson shoved him. “Just get back to your seat!” He turned to Frank. “Back in line!”

A look of pure, calculated fury flashed across Megamind's face before the crooked smile returned. “Of course,” he murmured.

Iverson was busy haranguing the other two latecomers.

“Hey kid, you guys can come sit here,” said Sid. “There's room.”

Megamind said, “We already have seats over there. Come, Minion.” He walked past to an empty table on the far side of the room. Minion hesitated a moment, glancing uncertainly at the staring uncles, then followed.

There was no rumble of disapproval, but the air grew thick in the silence.

Sid stared after them, then turned to look down at his tray.

“Told you,” Lenny said, taking a sip from his cup.

Sid stabbed some coleslaw. “Shut up, Lenny.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the dark of the night, there were whispers.

“Sir, could you explain again why we're doing this?”

“Iverson needs to be taken down a peg, that's why. He's not going to get away with pushing me around!”

“But he's a guard, they're always pushy. And won't he, you know, sort of suspect?”

“There are, at this time, fifty-seven inmates who have sufficient mental capacity to pull off a stunt of this magnitude.”

“But how many of them could get in here? And how many have the mental capacity to hook up a false video feed?”

“Thirty-eight. Okay, when I get to the top, hand up the bag.”

“And what about motive? What about---”

“Oh, quit worrying, Minion. I have an alibi.”

“Which is?”

“I am going to come down with a terrible case of stomach cramps, and shall be laid up in the infirmary for the duration. Wait a minute, just let me get the tether secured.”

“Can't we just wait until some blueberry pie filling comes in?”

“Tch! That's too obvious. Cherry is a perfectly good substitute, and it'll wash right off. He's lucky it's not motor oil. Okay, I'm ready. Hoist it up! For heaven's sake, Minion, don't sigh like that. It's depressing.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

After the trap was set, he turned off the recorder that he’d hooked up to the monitors. The pirated video feed showed empty corridors and themselves sleeping peacefully in their cell. And no one was the wiser for their unauthorized trip to the dry goods room. The bell sounded for lights-on, and the ebb and flow of daily prison life got underway.

Blue complained about a stomach ache. The guards were disinclined to believe it, since he was so rarely ill, but he was so listless and quiet they sent him to the infirmary just to be on the safe side. After all, there was a stomach bug going around. Several inmates had been taken with it, and the guards themselves were short staffed.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

After being in bed for four hours straight with a fake stomach cramp, Megamind couldn't stand it any longer. The warden had even stopped by, and as he left, there was a definite hint of suspicion on the old man's face.

What was going on out there? Where was the hue and cry? He sent Minion out on recognizance, and he came back, shrugging his over-sized shoulders. “Well, did you get to see what was going on in sundries?” Megamind demanded.

“I tried, Sir, but they were getting suspicious enough as it is. I didn't even get to walk by the distribution counter. Mr. Chavez said you'd already gotten your linens for the week, and why did I want to go there anyway, and I couldn't think of...”

“All right, all right,” Megamind said, waving off Minion's explanation. He flung off the covers and left the room, Minion clumping along behind. “I'm feeling a lot better, Dr. Curtis, thanks to your stellar medical skills,” he announced to the infirmary at large, and went out.

“I can't understand it,” he said. “A million guards must have been in and out of there by now, and Iverson should have been the first one in there this morning, he was on the schedule! He should've...”

Security chief Schmidt appeared around the far corner of the hallway like a bad dream.

Megamind's steps faltered. Schmidt walked closer, his face unreadable. “All better?” he said, without a trace of irony. “We need to talk. Come with me,” he said. He turned and began walking back down the corridor.

Megamind rolled his eyes and followed. As they approached the cell block, Schmidt turned to Minion and said, “You go back to the cell.” Minion looked helplessly at Megamind, who grimaced and shrugged. Well, there was nothing else for it.

He clasped his hands behind his back to stop their trembling and followed the security chief, leaving Minion behind. As they rounded the next corner, Megamind glanced over his shoulder. Minion was following, as discretely as his new, clanking robot suit would allow.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

Parker regarded the three members of the Alien Oversight Committee, Whittier, Bentley, and Dogherty---or Witless, Get Bent, and Dogbreath, as the boy persisted in calling them, and try as he might, Parker could not get the imagery out of his head.

There they sat, as somber as judges, Whittier in his neatly tailored suit, Bentley with his fussy bow tie, and Dogherty, who usually dressed all in gray, but today he had thrown all caution to the winds and had a gaudy red carnation attached to his lapel. Perhaps he was retiring soon. Parker could only hope. Dogherty's main reason for being there seemed to be so he could agree with the other two.

They settled into their chairs, opened briefcases, and shuffled folders around. The label 'John Doe' was neatly displayed. Parker wondered if it was all for show. There couldn't possibly be that many reports, not for one kid, alien or not. There was enough paperwork there to fill a room full of filing cabinets.

They almost never asked about Minion, which was probably for the best. Sometimes Parker thought that Blue intentionally put himself forward precisely because he wanted to keep Minion from attracting too much of the committee's attention.

Their officially scheduled semi-annual meeting wasn't to happen for a couple of months, but they insisted there were important matters to discuss and it couldn't wait.

Whittier cleared his throat. “We have come here today, Mr. Parker, because of our concerns. It would seem that young John is...maturing, shall we say, in a very unhealthy manner.” Whittier persistently used the boy's official name, and Blue typically responded as if he never knew who Whittier was talking about.

“There's nothing wrong with his health,” Parker said. “Well, he seems to have picked up a stomach bug, but...”

“That's not what we mean,” Whittier said. “It has come to our attention that he accosted a young lady.”

Parker frowned. “What? Where did you hear that?”

Bentley sniffed. “The source isn't important. The very same day he attempted to incite a riot, and set fire to his cell.”

“There hasn't been any riot!” Parker said, perplexed. “I think I would've noticed.”

“Well, I did say 'attempt.' We expect to be kept up to date on events of such magnitude, and quite frankly, warden, I find it disturbing that you don't seem to know anything about these matters.”

Whittier raised a conciliatory hand as Parker bristled. “Gentlemen, please! It happened last month, Mr. Parker, right before Christmas. The twentieth?” The three of them peered at him, Whittier looking at him over his spectacles.

Parker huffed out a breath. “Oh. That.” He leaned his elbows on the desk. “There's been some mistake.”

“I'll say,” Bentley muttered.

“There has neither been a riot nor an attempt to start one,” Parker said loudly. “And he did not set fire to the cell, he burned a few papers, and he certainly did not accost a young lady, as you so delicately put it. Blue was watching people leave, and one of the prisoners got the idea in his head that he was eyeballing his daughter. Merely watching visitors depart is not an offense.”

“But setting a fire is a major breach, is it not, warden? No matter how insignificant you seem to think it was?” Bentley said dryly.

Parker gave him a hard look. “He has already been punished for it, I assure you,” Parker said. Having to apologize to Henfling was punishment enough for that proud kid. Not to mention the surrounding emotional trauma, but Parker was not going to expose the boy's internal wounds. It was better if he just stuck to the facts.

There was general sense of pulling back and regrouping among the committee members. Dogherty leaned over to Whittier and whispered in his ear. Bentley sniffed again. “Nevertheless, I should think that young girls who come to visit their fathers shouldn't have to put up with any sort of unwanted attentions from prisoners.”

From one particular prisoner, you mean, Parker thought, heat rising in his face. “Perhaps I could duct tape his eyes shut on visiting days?” he said.

Bentley's jowls shook. “I don't think you're taking this seriously, Mr. Parker!”

Whittier tried to intervene. “I think we're getting a little...”

“Has an official complaint been filed for harassment, or assault?” Parker said. “This 'young lady' you're so concerned about, is she pressing charges? No? Is anyone pressing charges?” He looked around at each man in turn.

Bentley sighed. “No, as a matter of fact,” he said. He sounded disappointed.

“Because _nothing happened._ No assault, nothing. Someone comes running to you with some wild stories, and you eat it up! I don't know why you're wasting my time with these rumors.”

Whittier raised his hand to forestall Bentley's sputtering. “Actually, warden, this is probably as good a time as any to address our concerns. Clearly the level of freedom that he enjoys at this facility needs re-evaluation.” He glanced around at everyone, and let his gaze come to rest on Parker. “We should have prepared for his...maturity, long before this, but, well, there it is. No time like the present, and all that. Given the impossibility of his being able to engage in any sort of normal interactions, I think it would be a good idea to help him deal with frustration, I'm sure his... his hormones must be a source of distress. But we can take steps to deal with it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Parker said.

“Medication, to control his urges. It would be doing him a kindness, really.”

Parker tapped his finger on the desk. He leaned back in his chair. “A kindness,” he said.

“Yes,” Whittier said. “And I think it would be a great help to you, warden, it would make him more docile, more tractable, easier to control. Surely you see the need.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Schmidt headed straight for the dry goods distribution office. Megamind's hands tightened. He could feel his shoulders beginning to curl in on themselves and jerked himself up straight.

Schmidt went to the side door and unlocked it and, heedless of danger, walked right in. He frowned at Megamind hovering in the doorway. “Well, come in!” he said. He moved absent-mindedly around the room, inspecting the shelves with their piles of uniforms and bedding.

Megamind stepped cautiously across the threshold. His eyes darted around the pipes and duct work that constituted the room's ceiling, trying to see what had gone wrong with his brilliant trap. Almost immediately he spotted the problem. It had been triggered, but the end of the tether had somehow gotten tangled around one of the guide hooks. It was pretty dark, but it looked like a knot was all that was keeping the splatter bag up there. A knot! How had that gotten there? He’d checked the entire line twice and it was as smooth as could be.

He tore his eyes down to ground level again at Schmidt's voice. “There better not be so much as a paper clip missing when we're through here,” Schmidt said, with his back turned.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Megamind muttered. Paper clip? Please! That pack of 'C' batteries, now, or that transistor radio with 'Property of Slick' scrawled in red marker across it, those might be worth his time, if he had a mind for them. He could feel his neck muscles creaking under the strain of not looking up.

Schmidt settled himself behind the desk in the back, and was immediately hidden behind the paperwork. He lifted a stack of binders onto the floor.

Megamind rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels. “So-o-o, where's Iverson? Out sick?” he asked.

Schmidt lifted another stack onto the floor. The surface of the desk was almost visible. “Damn computers,” he muttered. “Paperless. Ha! That's Mister Iverson to you. He's got the flu. Why?”

Megamind grinned, shrugged, waved his hands, and basically indicated it was a perfectly innocent question without any kind of ulterior motive or anything to be suspicious about, no sirree.

“Have a seat,” Schmidt barked, growing impatient with his hovering. He gestured at the chair in front of the desk.

Megamind came closer. Now he could see the splatter bag, right over the desk, and the desk's occupant. Who should have been Iverson, but rather horribly wasn't. He realized he was tiptoeing, and slipped into the chair, gripping the edge of the seat in case a quick get away was in the immediate future.

Schmidt didn't seem to notice his hesitant approach. He glanced around the nearly-cleared desk, working his jaw as if something unpleasant were stuck in one of his molars. He sighed heavily. “I brought you here to apologize,” he said.

“I didn't do it,” Megamind said, on automatic. His mind flashed through the events of the past couple of weeks, searching for any _other_ acts that he didn’t want to come to Schmidt's attention.

Schmidt finally met his eyes. His mouth twitched.“No, son, I meant that _I_ should apologize.”

Megamind's mouth fell open. He shut it. He glanced at the walls to see if they were beginning to freeze over, just as hell must have surely done. He wished there were a window nearby, so he could see if pigs were soaring through the air.

“Apologize?” he said weakly. Things were pretty serious when they started calling you 'son.' In the darkness above, the splatter bag began a slow rotation in some hidden air current.

Schmidt leaned forward on his elbows. His hands moved across the desk until they located a random pencil. He picked it up and twirled it in his fingers. “I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. That business with Frank Wilson. Remember?” He grimaced and put the pencil down. “Of course you do. I've been thinking about it a lot, see, and I figure we're stuck with each other for a long time, until, well, you know.” He looked at Megamind expectantly.

Megamind, who certainly did not know for how long, nodded anyway. This was unbelievable. Schmidt trying to be friendly was a crime against nature, like a fluffy crocodile. He think he would have preferred dealing with a crocodile. The beast might try to bite you in half, but it didn't try to win you over by acting all chummy.

The security chief's chair creaked as he leaned back in it. “See, I haven't seen my own kid for a few years, you know. He's about your age. My ex tells me he's gettin' to be a handful too. Noticing girls.”

Megamind shut his eyes. “That's all right, Mr. Schmidt,” he mumbled. _Do not start telling me about your own troubled childhood, don't start trying to relate..._

“It may be hard to believe, but I was young once too. I can remember...”

Megamind repressed a groan. His eyes strayed back up to the splatter bag doing a slow rotation in the darkness above. In glum fascination he watched as a sticky dark drop of red formed on the side of the bag and fell onto the shelf behind Schmidt. Another drop appeared at the edge of the shelf and slowly, saggingly, made its way to the next shelf down.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“No,” Parker said. “No, I don't think so.”

Dogherty sighed and scribbled in his legal pad. Bentley scowled. “Oh come now, warden! I think you're losing your objectivity. Now, we know you've had some personal problems lately,” and Bentley gave a smug all-knowing grin. “Trying to get your eldest back on his feet, very stressful, it's all...”

“Dan has moved out,” Parker said shortly. _As you well know, since I'm sure the offices of city hall were all a-buzz with the gossip._ “It has nothing to do with the situation here. Blue hasn't attacked anyone! And you want to sedate him? It's unconscionable. He doesn't need medicating.”

“We have to consider public safety,” Bentley said. “And you are hindering our work!”

“How about if he is confined to his cell during visiting hours?” Whittier said hastily. “Surely that’s a reasonable compromise.”

Parker let out his breath in an exasperated huff. “Are we even having the same conversation here? Confining him is a punishment, not a compromise.”

“There are other ways,” Bentley said, piggy eyes gleaming. “I’ve heard that electro-shock therapy can work wonders.”

Parker felt his fingernails dig into the desk. Whittier looked mildly disturbed, as if a waiter had brought him the wrong type of salad dressing. “Really, Bill, I thought we’d agreed to that as a last...”

Parker’s voice was just short of a growl. “So now you think he’s mentally disturbed? On what evidence? Under what twisted belief system are you operating? I’m having serious doubts about your fitness to be on this committee, Mr. Bentley.”

“How dare you! I have half a mind to...”

“Half a mind would be an improvement!”

“If we have to get a court order to get you to do your duty, then we will!”

A court order! Who did they think they were talking to? “My duty?” Parker said. “I know damn well what my duty is, and it’s not to drug the kid up or subject him to some barbaric ‘treatment’! He needs an outlet for his energy, he needs more exposure to the wider world, under complete supervision of course,” Parker said, overriding the protests, “Not to be locked away for the rest of his life!”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“I had my own gang I hung out with, well, not a real gang, just a buncha guys, we all hung out together...” Schmidt’s voice was a steady background drone.

 _Wasn’t he just saying how busy he was?_ Megamind thought. _When is this torture going to be over?_ But it seemed that Schmidt was in the mood to reminisce.

If that bag fell anytime within the next few minutes, Megamind was pretty sure that Schmidt wouldn't waste time checking the video recording, or asking the other guards if they'd noticed anything suspicious, what with the Number One Suspect sitting before him. He had a habit of leaping to conclusions. Just because this happened to be the right conclusion in this case didn’t make it any less inconvenient.

Megamind spent a few productive seconds judging how long it would take to make it to the door.

“...you know what I mean?” Schmidt stopped talking and looked at him.

Megamind grasped frantically at the lost threads of the conversation.

“Um, yes?” he said.

It seemed to be satisfactory. Schmidt nodded and launched into his speech again. “What I’m tryin’ to say is, I know what it’s like, bored, restless, but no reason why we gotta butt heads all the time. I’d appreciate it if you showed the guards a little more respect...”

A red pearl of cherry syrup gathered steam and colonized the third shelf down. And Megamind, ears straining, definitely heard the tiniest of creaks from the frayed tether.

“...you respect me, and I'll respect you....”

It sounded like the security chief was wrapping up his little chat. Megamind pulled his gaze away from the bulging sack and nodded vigorously.

Schmidt stood up. “Okay, Megamind?” he said, and stuck out his hand. Megamind stared at it.

Oh. He lunged to his feet, making the chair scrape across the floor and jabbed his right hand in Schmidt's general direction. He had to repress a shudder as his slim fingers were enveloped in that ruddy paw.

Schmidt felt a rare twinge of sympathy. The kid probably had never shaken anyone's hand before. He looked the boy in the eye and shook his hand once, firmly, then released him.

Ramrod straight, Megamind yanked his hand back. “Can I go now, Mr. Schmidt?”

Schmidt had settled behind the desk again. He nodded and gave a curt wave. He opened a binder and began leafing through it.

Megamind sailed back out into the hall, and reached behind him for the doorknob.

There was a very loud snap from inside the dry goods office as the overworked tether gave way. Schmidt looked up.

Megamind slammed the door.

There was a gigantic SPLAT as if the biggest paint ball in the world had exploded.

Megamind ran for it.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The guards at Checkpoint B looked up at the sound of skittering feet. There was a moment's silence, then Blue walked around the corner.

The guard on the near side got to his feet. “Spread 'em,” he said, as the boy approached.

The boy 'tsk'-ed and rolled his eyes, but he raised his arms and the guard patted him down.

“He's clean,” he said to his partner, and the other man nodded and pressed the buzzer.

Blue stepped through the gate. “I'm sure the pleasure was all yours,” the boy said snidely, and continued on his way.

“Hey,” the second guard said.

Blue froze.

“You tell Minion he can't keep hanging around here,” the guard said. “I have to keep telling him to get lost. Can't loiter around here,” he grumbled.

“We can see his shadow,” the other guard said loudly. The shadow in question shuffled further back around the corner.

“I'll...do that right away,” Blue said, and marched swiftly down the corridor.

The guards began to settle back in their seats when another figure, dripping with cherry syrup, came into sight. “What the---”

They turned, but Blue was gone.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Megamind hot-footed it along the hall, slowly, so Minion could keep up.

“Have to build some speed into you,” he muttered.

“Sorry, Sir, I'm trying. These legs are heavy.” Not that it required any real physical exertion from Minion, but the length of time it took to swing each appendage forward at a decent speed took forever.

“Remember when I said I that it was time to stand on my own two feet and face the world?”

“Yeah, like a man should, to face whatever adversity might come? It was a very inspiring declaration, Sir.”

“Yes, naturally. Except, perhaps ...there might still be occasions when it might be... prudent, as it were... just this once, mind you... to seek refuge, even quite possibly shelter...”

“From the warden?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. What are you stopping for?” Megamind looked back at him.

“I was thinking I can try pointing him the wrong way,” Minion said bravely.

Megamind looked at him with admiration. “Minion, you are one fantastic fish.”And ran for it.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was with considerable relief that the guards at Checkpoint B buzzed the security chief through. No words were exchanged; Schmidt strode forward as if he would walk right through the gate and they lunged for the buzzer.

They watched as he walked stickily away.

“Kid's dead,” one of them muttered.

The other nodded. “Least he won't be able to sit down for a couple months.”

When the glowering Schmidt appeared in Minion's line of sight, the little ichthyoid thought that his robot suit really needed to be a lot bigger. Like something the size of Metro Tower. As the security chief stalked toward him, Minion raised a trembling digit. “Um, he went that way,” he squeaked, pointing toward the laundry.

Schmidt jabbed an accusing finger at him and skewered him with a look that said a certain ichthyoid was going to be spending a lot of time in the aquarium _real_ soon, and went the opposite direction, toward the administrative wing.

 _Well, I tried,_ Minion thought.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Avoiding the cells completely was impossible. The guards got out of Schmidt’s way and refrained from giggling at least until he was out of earshot. The hoots and catcalls from the prisoners rang in Schmidt's ears as he squelched his way to the warden's office. He took off his belt for a handy strap.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After some more arguing and useless debating, the meeting collapsed under its own weight and came to an end. Parker wouldn’t budge on the medication issue, and Bentley was annoyed that the other committee members hadn’t backed him up on his shock therapy idea.

Bentley shoved his arms into his coat sleeves in a disgruntled manner. “It's far too early to say if he will be allowed into greater society, warden. Not until we have total assurance that the public will not be at risk.”

Parker sighed. They wandered into the outer office. “Well, how about some kind of time frame? Say he behaves himself for a set number of weeks, then...”

Whittier raised his eyebrows. “A time frame?” he said. “Something like: '72 Days Without An Explosion'?”

“Something like that, yes,” said Parker. “He could be rewarded for good behavior with an outing of some sort.” He looked at their stern faces. “Under supervision,” he added.

Bentley said hotly, “It would have to be very good behavior indeed, if I have anything to say about it!”

“How about a visit to the Natural History Museum?” said Dogherty. “He likes fossils, doesn't he?” They all stared at him. It was, quite possibly, the first time he had ever volunteered an original suggestion in any of these meetings. Perhaps Dogherty was the one on medication. It was a good idea, too, or would have been a good one a few months ago.

Parker took a deep breath. “I think he's outgrown the dinosaur phase,” he said carefully.

There was the sound of running feet. Blue screeched to a stop in the doorway.

“Well, let's see what he has to say about this proposal,” Parker said. _Up and about, I see. What a surprise._ Well, he'd suspected the boy hadn't really been sick, but he hadn't had time to figure out what he was up to. He gave him a stern look, willed him to be civil, and gestured curtly for him to come closer. “Why don't you come over and...”

Whittier nodded gravely and said, “Hello, John.”

Parker clenched his teeth together and rained silent curses on Whittier's head. Why, why, WHY in God's name did this imbecile insist on calling the boy by the one name that he despised above all others? Just because it was on the documents!

Then Parker realized Blue was breathing hard, but the hunted demeanor quickly evaporated, as the boy drew himself up and gave Whittier a decidedly evil grin. “That's Megamind, Mr. Witless. And I'm afraid I don't have time to talk,” he peered back around the corner, then, with lightning speed, he flew into Parker's office and slammed the door. The lock snicked into place.

“Did he just call me 'Mr. Witless'?” Whittier said, scrunching up his face.

Bentley looked at Parker. “Megamind?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Is he mentally stable?”

An apparition covered in cherry pie filling loomed around the doorway, but Schmidt's features were recognizable under the mess. _Blue didn’t blow up the kitchen again, did he?_ Parker thought in bewilderment. Then he saw the belt in Schmidt’s hand.

Parker raised his hands. “Now, just take it easy, Walt, just...”

Schmidt's eyes could have ignited the room. “Out of my way,” he growled. As one man, the stunned committee took a step back, dignity forgotten. Even the warden's assistant looked ready to dive under the desk.

Parker was all alone in the center of the room. “You need some time to cool off, now,” Parker warned. “I won't let you do anything you'll regret.”

“I won't regret it. Believe me,” Schmidt said in a deadly voice. Parker couldn't help noticing that a cherry was stuck to the side of his head, perched right over his ear.

“What the hell is that?!” Dogherty screeched, pointing a trembling finger.

A jittery Minion, all five hundred pounds of him, quickly ducked back out of sight.

“It's just Minion, Mr. Dogherty,” Parker said. A slightly hysterical feeling was bubbling up in his chest. The words _He's gone through a growth spurt,_ were lining up in his head, and he barely kept them from bursting out. There was not anything remotely funny about the situation, not in the slightest, he told himself firmly.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Parker convinced Schmidt he would feel a whole lot better after a shower and a change of clothes. Getting the boy to come out of the office took quite a long time, especially after Parker unlocked the door and realized he'd been talking to an empty room. The boy had escaped through the air vent. Bentley drily asked if this was his normal way of travel, and wondered if the boy was really spending as much time in his cell as Parker seemed to think.

To save time, Parker used the intercom to make a blanket announcement of amnesty. The boy turned himself in because it was, quite frankly, better than waiting to be found by Schmidt, who, though newly cleaned and scrubbed, was still dangerously angry.

While they were negotiating the terms of his punishment, which was to basically clean the entire dry goods distribution office by himself and take on extra KP duties until his eyebrows turned gray, Megamind noticed that the warden was having a little trouble talking. A few times he made an odd choking sound, as if something had gone down the wrong pipe.

It was as if the warden were trying not to laugh, but surely that couldn't be.


End file.
